


But First, Some Rebellion

by eternitywrites



Series: Alter Egos [3]
Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Crime Fighting, M/M, Monsters, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Rating May Change, Secret Identity, Slow Build, Slow To Update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 08:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4256811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternitywrites/pseuds/eternitywrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the day, Aoba finds himself increasingly drawn to the reclusive, taciturn Noiz. At night, Dr. Rabbit — a superhero of considerable skill — hunts down and harasses the provocative superpowered outlaw Mind Shock for the sake of his employers in Platinum Jail. But mostly for the huge amount of money they're paying him to do it. </p><p>The whole situation is a complete mess and it doesn’t even scratch the surface of what’s really at play in Midorijima’s scene of superheroes, supervillains, and everyone caught in between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But First, Some Rebellion

The half-empty plastic cup of blended coffee chucked at Noiz's face is one of the more exciting things that has happened to him that week. Still, he can't say he's pleased, despite catching it with ease before all the whipped cream and sugared-up coffee sloshed down his front.

“Whoa! Sorry, dude.” The kid says it with a laugh and a grin while his friends chortle behind him. “Meant to throw that into the alley.”

“What?" says another. “Your shit was so off, I thought you aimed it at him on purpose!”

More laughter drowns out the whiny, embarrassed protests of the coffee-thrower. The sounds buzz through one of Noiz’s ears and out the other. He sighs and tosses it where it was meant to be thrown before squeezing through the teenage mob, neatly cutting off their humor.

“Okay. Nice to meet you, too…” Noiz hears as he walks away.

“Another rude-as-hell foreigner,” mutters another.

Whatever.

Noiz continues his wandering without much of a destination in mind. A bad habit, according to his old handlers. Always, always, always know where you are going, what you’re going to do once there, keep your surroundings in mind at all times, never forget your blind spots, never trust anyone in the vicinity because you operate alone —

He shakes his head. Work doesn’t start for awhile yet.

“You _would_ like Specter, Akiko,” sneers a boy in the next gaggle of kids he comes across. To him they look no different from the first group. None of them throw drinks at Noiz this time, however. A small blessing. “Because he’s _so_ handsome, right?”

A girl toting a heavily decorated backpack goes bright pink. “No! W-what’s wrong with liking Specter, huh? He’s amazing!”

“Please, he’s nothing but a…”

The conversation is soon swallowed by the rest of the crowded streets. Noiz doesn’t recognize the call sign. Probably a mainlander. Certainly not one of his Platinum Jail-patrolling colleagues. Their reputation in the Old District isn't exactly glowing, from what Noiz can tell. He supposes he counts as one of the ones among them, but his workplace has proven smart in how they use their employees. He has other things to do than run routes all night.

The last of the sun’s rays fade away, natural light bowing deep to the glow of flickering street lamps and bright, electric holographic ads fighting for dominance against the more old-fashioned ones slapped on every ramshackle building Noiz passes. It’s a far cry from the pristine order of the Platinum Jail Districts beyond the looming walls to the north. If he has to have a preference — and he doesn’t have much of one, trained to be put in any place at any time during any type of situation without a fuss — he would almost say he likes the Old Resident District. It’s messy and worn, without a single drop of opulence. Honest in how little it cares about him or anyone else.

“Whoops, ‘scuse me.”

Noiz grunts at whoever it is he dodges. The other person is so ensconced in whatever their Coil screens are displaying they don’t even bother looking up. They hustle onward like a distracted, unstoppable train and collide face-first into a lamppost hardly a moment later, much to the amusement of a couple of girls strolling out of a convenience store.

Typical. If Noiz isn’t getting odd glances he receives no attention at all. His handlers would be pleased with the latter. No attention is good, they all told him, one after the other. That’s how assignments are successfully completed.

A burst of cheering erupts from the store next to him. The distraction is followed by another in quick succession. A wall of holoscreen televisions in the display window of the electronics shop next door to it play an obnoxious advertisement, red flashing against white that demands attention and keeps him pinned to the spot while he blinks away the brightness: _UNREGISTERED USE OF ABILITIES STRICTLY PROHIBITED IN ALL DISTRICTS._

There’s a second round of hooting and hollering from the other building. Noiz frowns and looked up. The sign above it proclaims ‘Arcade Lightning’ in fiery characters. Curiosity is quick to win in the place's favor, mostly because noise is now pouring out of it in a constant stream. His Coil tells him he still has about half an hour left before his shift starts, so, hands tucked deep in his pockets, he saunters inside. He almost doubles back out when the group circled around the nearest machine the store proves too big, too compact, and too close to the door — to him — for his liking. Then he catches the bold lettering on the side of it, just visible over the head of a kid with a neon-orange mohawk: Rhyme.

He doesn’t edge in closer. He wants to, but —

_“You deserve nothing until you succeed in the missions of the Network. Only then will you be rewarded.”_

— he’d rather keep his distance from the guy who smells like he’s been stockpiling a whole week’s worth of BO on him. So he shifts over and hangs back, unnoticed by customers and employees, rising on his toes and craning his neck to catch a better glimpse of the machine’s screen between the heads of its current combatants. It’s mostly a confusing whirl of bright, colorful attacks, but Noiz knows high-level play when he sees it. The character in the tattered poncho has timing so precise its opponent’s hits glance off the invincibility frames of its movements more than once. Nice.

The crowd dissipates from Noiz’s vision, and their cheers give way to the clashing sound effects of Rhyme. He lets himself sink into the gentle pull of nostalgia for a moment and is years younger again, listening to every kid in Green Playground hype up the release of _Rhyme: Second Nexus_. He doesn’t know what that is, but his heart flutters in want, anyway. He wants what the girl swinging off her mother’s arm wants, what the gaggle of excited boys near the taiyaki stand want. His current handler — whoever it is at the time, Noiz can never remember their faces, much less their names — brings him back to attention with a pop quiz on the fastest way to dismantle the X357 series of electronic locks. He answers easily, thoughtlessly, and it nets him a treat: a single scoop of strawberry ice cream in a cone. He recalls licking it without complaint, something hot and acidic twisting his stomach into knots while he wonders how much trouble he’ll get in if he crams it in his handler’s face and runs.

“Can I help you?”

Noiz glances sideways. He’s addressed by an employee who looks entirely done with the hubbub taking place. Definitely not a Rhymer.

“Nah.”

“Let me know if you need anything…” It's a half-hearted invitation at best. The employee escapes to the relative peace of the arcade's prize center, which is fine by Noiz, whose attention is back to the Rhyme match before the employee is even done talking.

The crowd erupts into screams, which has Noiz wrinkling his nose and taking another step back. One of the players is rubbing his hands over his face. The shoulder and back pats he receives are accompanied by things like “Nice try, dude,” and “Better luck next time”. The winner must be on the shorter side. Noiz can’t see them over the rest of the audience.

A voice speaks up over the ruckus. “Anyone else wanna challenge Azure?”

There’s a heavy beat of stillness in the crowd. Palpable hesitation. Azure, Azure… Noiz thinks back to the current Rhyme leaderboards. Yes, Azure is a name he sees on there often enough, in various spots, usually at the upper end of the list. It sounds like a decent enough challenge for once. Maybe it will even be fun. Then again, he didn't do anything to earn some fun for himself, so —

He pushes the thought out of his head the best he can. Whatever. He’ll do what he wants outside of his suit.

“I will.”

Noiz ignores the great sea of heads turning his way, squeezing through the mass of bodies while unclipping one of his sleeping Usagimodoki from its chain. There’s a girl in the store’s uniform standing near the cabinet with the air of a referee. He assumes his opponent is the guy with the mess of long blue hair. A blue Rhymer tag to go with blue hair. Well, Noiz knows he is one of the last ones to fault anyone for their lack of naming creativity.

“Hey,” says Azure.

Noiz isn’t sure why the Rhymer smiles at him. To lower his guard? He knows some people in his department are taught to charm their way past all kinds of defenses. It’s not a skill Noiz has ever bothered to work on. He responds with a quiet “yo,” stretching the wire inside Usagimodoki to one of the slots on the cabinet and glancing down at the Allmate near Azure’s feet in mild curiosity. It’s a small, fluffy dog with a lolling pink tongue and large, dark eyes. It blinks back up at him and swishes its tail. Noiz assumes it’s kept around for its cuteness value over functionality. The thing looks like it’s over a decade old.

“P! Connection established! _Rhyme Arcade: Fourth Confluence!”_ The Usagimodoki twirls in his hand. “Pay one-hundred yen?”

“Do it.”

“Do you play often?” asks Azure.

Noiz can feel Azure’s eyes on him. He pretends inputting his log-in credentials takes up more of his focus than it does in actuality and keeps his gaze on the screen. “Yeah.”

“Three out of five sound good to you?”

“Sure.” He chances a glance at his opponent while Usagimodoki loads up its online form into the machine. Still looking at him. Azure’s eyes are a strange, nameless blend of colors. Soft, though. Non-threatening, as far as Noiz can detect. “You’re on the leaderboards a lot. I’ve been meaning to challenge you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Azure’s smile stretches into a cheery grin. “I’ve really been getting into ranked matches, lately. It’s a lot more fun than I thought it’d be. What’s your — no way…”

There’s a strange sense of satisfaction in watching Azure do a double-take at the monitor, his smile slipping off his face like oil and eyes going wide when he sees ‘K4N1N_K0PF’ appear above the fully-loaded Usagimodoki. The rabbits squeak and bounce as they throw excited volleys of air punches. By contrast, Azure’s character floats in quiet serenity, every so often rubbing at his wrists.

“Wow,” says the referee, looking at the screen and then addressing the crowd at large. “Looks like we have two top-tier players about to square off! Azure versus…uh, how do you pronounce your tag?”

“ _Kanin Kopf_ ,” Noiz murmurs.

“Right…that. The current number one ranked Rhymer on the whole island! This is gonna be one hell of a fight, everyone!”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“ _The_ number one? He trying to score easy wins off all the scrubs in here?”

“Man, I can’t wait for this! Azure’s about to get his entire ass handed to him.”

“Don’t worry, Azure! I’ll still pull for you when you lose!”

And so on. Noiz heaves a sigh and tries to blot out the racket. This is why he prefers playing through a computer.

An irritated click of the tongue sounds off beside him. Azure is giving the crowd a sharp, sidelong glance.

“Gonna let them get to you?” Noiz asks. The match isn’t going to be very interesting if Azure’s game is thrown off that easily.

With a downward curl of his lips and a furrowed brow, Azure grabs his hair in one hand, loops an elastic band off his other wrist, and ties his hair back into a messy knot. For whatever reason this excites the crowd even more. There’s a cacophony of chanting, shouts of “Azure!” and “Number one!” combating for dominance.

“I don’t go down without a fight.” Azure snaps the words out. There are heated sparks in his eyes, the energy zipping from them to Noiz when they look at each other full on. He turns back to the cabinet screen, reasoning that his own smile probably doesn’t mean much. Just a reflex, if anything. It feels odd on his face. Too unused, too earnest. He’s quick to drop it.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” is all he says. “You can pick the field.”

Azure swings the cursor over to the random select button. “Ready to go, Ren?”

“Of course,” says the dog at his feet, voice way too deep for such a dainty, furry creature.

“Usagimodoki is ready, too!”

Noiz gives his Allmate a poke. Not in admonishment or irritation, just a tiny gesture of acknowledgment. Usagimodoki beeps in reply, and Noiz knows it understands.

The field is chosen: a rooftop high above a glittering city, the moon hanging huge and bright in the background. Noiz doesn’t much care for the standard stages Rhyme offers, but it doesn’t matter in the end. Noiz will gladly rip this guy to shreds on any turf, modded or vanilla.

“Alright,” announces the referee as they both accept the stage. “Azure against… _K-kanin Kopf_ in Moonlit Metropolis beginning in five, four…!”

“Good luck.”

Noiz barely catches Azure’s well-wishing above the crowd. He keeps his eyes on the countdown, fingers on the buttons. Politeness dictates he should say something sporting in return. Nothing comes to mind.

“Three, two…!”

“Don’t need it.”

He hears Azure’s reply without a problem: a loud, disapproving ‘tsk’.

“One…rhyme!”

The fight is a near minute of chaotic virtual brutality accompanied by the smacking of buttons and yanking of joysticks. And it’s not the actual battle that gives Noiz a heated, heady rush. For its short span of time he feels wonderfully _average_. Rhyme is simple despite all its finger-cramping inputs, and he even though he’s great — excellent, even — it still has the power to reduce him to just another player, no more abnormal than the rest of them.

“So you _are_ good,” Noiz drawls, watching Ren blast his Usagimodoki across the stage and into the wall. Easy to bounce back from, but he can give Azure kudos for the move.

“Did you think luck keeps me on the leaderboards?” Azure sounds decidedly more waspish. He’s deep into the fight, for sure. Noiz appreciates that.

“You look like that type of guy. I wouldn’t have been surprised.”

“What?! You little — dammit!” And just like that, Ren is steamrolled under a charging swarm of Usagimodoki, evening out their health bars.

Noiz employs his favorite tactic for the match: a relentless offensive that doesn’t give his opponent time to breath, commanding Usagimodoki to execute a continuous stream of combos and criticals tailored to crush just about any situation into the ground before it can start.

But Azure, damn him, really is skilled.

Noiz feels his jaw tighten. Block — block — block — counter, block — block — counter _again_. Ren flies around the stage like a quiet blue ghost, baiting Usagimodoki into a chase Noiz can’t help but fall for with his shorter range. He attacks, and his barrage of rabbits are soon sliced apart by a glitched-out scythe for their trouble. A reactive strategy as nasty as it is risky, Ren is losing almost as much health as Usagimodoki. Almost. A lead is still a lead, and Azure and his Allmate are a mere glancing blow ahead of him.

“You ever gonna try attacking me head on for once?” Noiz asks.

Azure _laughs._ It’s a silly, cheerful snort that almost makes Noiz press the wrong button. Has he heard it somewhere before? He’s sure he would have remembered, and he’s not even sure why he cares. It nibbles at his mind, regardless. Where? Where has he —

“I’m using a legitimate strategy,” Azure sing-songs. It’s annoying enough to dispel Noiz’s deja vu and make him press his lips together. He has a point, but like hell is he going to admit to that out loud.

Noiz has Usagimodoki spec’d for chewing through health even when the enemy has their guard up, but Ren’s retaliations coupled with his master’s timing have Noiz and Azure neck and neck. They dance around each other, durability bars at mere slivers before Azure makes Ren block again, the opening Noiz has been waiting for.

“Playing too safe, Azure.” Noiz rushes in, determined to end it in one final blow.

“You think so?”

And the Usagimodoki hit nothing but air as Ren shoots upward at the last second. Noiz can’t pull out of his own attack fast enough to recover. It’s over. His hands slide from the controls and the Usagimodoki take the blast of Ren's arm cannons with piteous wails. He hears that above the onlookers going wild behind them.

“Azure wins round one,” yells the employee, adding to all the noise. “What an upset!”

Noiz expels a heavy breath and looks over at Azure. His opponent has a hand over his heart in unabashed relief, lessening the deep sting of failure he doesn’t want to acknowledge.

“That was way too close!”

“I’m not letting you pull that trick off again,” Noiz tells him, fingers at the ready when the countdown winds for round two.

Azure nods. There's an air of determined solemnity to it. “Got it. May the best Rhymer win.”

Noiz says nothing to that. He is no longer certain which one of them deserves that title.

 

* * *

 

Each and every round is a vicious back-and-forth that has everyone in the store on edge as Noiz and Azure exchange blows. After Azure’s first win Noiz scores the next two, then Azure secures his victory on the last two with hardly a few pixels left on Ren’s durability bar in both matches.

Exhilaration is still shooting through Noiz’s veins even as he and Azure make their way through the throng and out of Arcade Lightning. The sky has almost fully welcomed nighttime and to him it feels as if hours have been packed into the fifteen or so minutes he’s spent inside that cramped little video game store. Not in that it took too long, but in that something important has taken place, something crucial. It’s odd, and Noiz tries to dismiss it. Having his several-weeks-long win streak shattered is jarring, is all.

And he isn’t about to let it go without payback. Oh, no. As far as he’s concerned it is one-hundred percent _on_ between him and Azure. Scraping more wins by the skin of his teeth isn’t going to satisfy him. Nothing but Azure’s utter decimation on the Rhyme field by his hand will do.

“What’s wrong with fighting under the Blessed attribute?” Azure looks crestfallen. He has those light eyes trained on Noiz instead of what’s in front of him. Noiz notes that he’s able to weave between the passersby without a single misstep, doesn’t even falter when they’re forced to circle around the cluster of cordoned-off potholes from the latest attack on the district.

Noiz sticks his hands back into his pockets. “It’s easily the least powerful class there is. Decent specials and that’s it. No wonder you’re always on the defensive.”

“Being defensive is the best offensive,” Azure insists. “Ren and I have never had a problem using it, and I’ve been playing for _years._ ”

“So have I, and you’ve gotta be one of the only Rhymers I’ve met who haven’t switched out of a basic attribute after they finished single player mode. I’m beginning to think you really do run on luck.”

“I don’t!” Azure pulls a face. “I’m pretty good, you said it yourself. I know how to work with what I’ve got.”

Noiz raises his brows, honestly a little baffled. “You could work with a lot more if you just switched attributes.”

“I like where Ren is right now, thank you very much.” The glare Azure shoots at him is hard to interpret. Full of friction, but Noiz isn’t sure if it’s actually very serious. “What’s it to you, anyway?”

“It’s nothing to me.” Noiz lets his gaze skitter away. “Handicapping yourself so badly is just kind of weird.”

Azure gives him a clueless sort of shrug. “I’m just playing the way I like to play. What about you, huh? how do you like to play?”

“On my own fields,” Noiz tells him. Azure’s going to have to do better than that if he’s fishing around for weaknesses to exploit. “The presets are so basic. The arcade versions need to let us upload our own stuff.”

It occurs right then to Noiz that he has no idea where he’s going. Or whether Azure is following him or the other way around. They’re making a winding, mindless path through South District together with no indication of when they should part ways. He wonders if Azure finds it as strange as he does. Is this what usually happens when normal people first meet?

Strange, but Noiz supposes he doesn’t mind. He needs a good opening to challenge him to a rematch, anyway.

“I was never good at making fields,” Azure admits. “Mine always come out weird. I like looking through the marketplace gallery, though. I’ve seen some of yours around, they’re really good! Do you do something in graphic design?”

“Not really.”

“Just for fun?”

“My fields make money.” Noiz tells him, guard up. Maybe this is what Azure’s been leading up to: a free customized field in exchange for winning that match or some other kind of trumped up nonsense. “Might as well keep doing it if people are going to buy them.”

“Guess I can’t fault you for that,” is all Azure says, but Noiz doesn’t relax completely.

They stop at a crosswalk. Not to heed the lights, which everyone ignores, but because Azure pauses to readjust his bag’s shoulder strap and coo at his dog when it yips and wags its tail. Noiz decides it’s high time to cut to the chase.

“I want to fight you again.”

Azure looks up from the dog and blinks. “What? Oh, yeah! Yeah, totally, it’d be great to play you in Rhyme again.” Then he grins. “Honestly? That was the funnest match I’ve ever had.”

“I plan on crushing you every time we fight. Just so you’re aware.”

“Figured as much.” says Azure with a bit of a laugh, and Noiz wonders if this guy will be worth his time challenging after all with such a casual attitude. “I’m prepared. My win-loss ratio looks like a sine wave, anyway.”

“Do you not care about winning?”

The question makes Azure frown. “That’s not it. Like I said, I don’t go down without a fight.”

“So long as you make the fights interesting.”

Azure’s eye roll is so exaggerated it’s almost audible, but he pulls out his Coil and so does Noiz. They exchange their Rhyme credentials at the street corner, under a lamppost a little away from the flow of foot traffic. It takes some time for Noiz to send his friend request with the WI-FI signal in the area weak as it is, but even as the load bar inches forward he considers leaving. Azure’s info is easy to memorize; he can always send another request later if it fails. However, when he looks up from his screens he finds Azure’s gaze anchoring him down. The harsh fluorescence from above makes his eyes look eerie, borderline unnatural.

“What?” asks Noiz, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Sorry.” The smile he gives Noiz is different, gentler than the ones Noiz received inside Arcade Lightning, and it’s hard to even think about walking away from something like that. “Are you new here?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Haven’t seen you around before, is all.”

Noiz thinks over an appropriate response. Professional protocol doesn’t strictly disallow him from giving personal information, but it’s accompanied by stern warning in all the training manuals and lectures. Be wary, be smart. Don’t compromise your identity with a loose mouth.

“Been here for a few years,” Noiz says at last. It’s vague, but truthful. “I stick to West District, usually. ”

“Came out for some shopping tonight?”

“Ah, no. I do that online. I was just,” for some reason, Noiz hesitates with his words. He’s not afraid he’ll be found out, not afraid of this guy, not afraid of much of anything anymore. He assumes he might simply be out of practice when it comes to conversation, “kind of bored. Felt like going out for awhile and ended up in that old arcade. Was that funny?”

Azure covers a hand over his sudden chuckle. “No, just a coincidence. I didn’t mean to go there either, but work ended early and I had time to kill, so…”

They stare at each other for a long moment. The air between them is heavy, thoughtful as they take each other in. Noiz finds himself wondering what Azure sees. He tells himself it doesn’t matter, that what he sees of Azure isn’t relevant, either. He keeps looking, but there’s an easy excuse for that. Where else is he supposed to look?

“How about we swap Coil numbers, too?” Azure suggests. The question is quick, words stumbling into each other in their haste and crashing into the silence.

“Why?”

“Um.” The pinkness of Azure’s face is loud and clear. “Maybe that was too forward of me? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Forget I asked.”

He isn’t going to forget. Azure’s number isn’t anything he needs, but if Azure wants his…“I don’t care.”

Azure’s brows pinch together. “Is that a yes, or…?”

“That’s a yes.”

They bring up more Coil screens and tell each other their numbers. Azure’s watch looks exceptionally old and clunky next to Noiz’s discreet silver bracelet. Noiz is beginning to think that might just be his style.

“Don’t worry,” Azure says as he types Noiz’s digits into his watch. “Texting is more my thing. I only call if something important is going on.”

“Either way is fine with me,” Noiz tells him. He inputs ‘Azure’ in the name slot when he realizes he doesn’t know his actual name and closes out of the contact window. It’ll do.

Azure grins at him. “You’re kind of carefree, aren’t — ”

A loud, shrill alarm cuts through the air. Noiz doesn’t flinch as hard as Azure does, but he snaps to alertness at once and takes stock of the holographic advertisements. They’ve all been switched to flashing warning signs.

Azure utters a nasty curse. “I’ll _never_ get used to that damn thing…”

The alarm is the one sound that can freeze the flow of ever-busy pedestrians in South District. Everyone stops in their tracks, waiting, collective breath held. The alarm fades down and a booming, masculine voice takes over, the sound somehow swelling from everywhere at once.

“A level three inhuman disturbance has been reported in East District. We repeat, a level three inhuman disturbance has been reported in East District. All Old Resident District civilians are advised to seek shelter until otherwise instructed. We repeat, all Old Resident — ”

It’s a good thing they’re standing apart from the crowd. It surges forward in a massive wave of bodies, everyone moving as one to find the nearest place to hide. No police sirens, no hard-faced cops guiding the frightened masses to bunkers or other designated areas of safety. The people of the Old District react to the newest threat as they have done for many years: without much help from authorities.

Noiz flexes his hand. His Coil doesn’t give that particular vibration, which is what he expects. Maybe some third class newbie looking to make a name for themself will show up. Or someone facing disciplinary action. Either way, he will not be the one taking care of this incident.

He has his own assignments to deal with.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Azure’s teeth press into his lower lip, and his fists are clamped tight around his bag straps.

“Afraid?”

“Not — uh, well…” He tugs at the straps in his hands, eyeing the crowd as if waiting for the opportunity to dive into it. “I live in East District. I should probably check on Granny…”

He’s edging into the stream of pedestrians, muttering distractedly to himself. That strange, soft atmosphere from earlier all but gone, Noiz shrugs and shoulders his way against the traffic of the crowd. He has what he wants out of Azure. The rematches will happen soon enough.

“W-wait!”

Noiz turns around, and is promptly cussed at by someone behind him. Azure is a decent distance away, his head barely visible among all the rest.

“What’s your name?” he calls.

Noiz stares at him.

“Your name?” he repeats in a shout, hands cupped around his mouth. It’s impossible to miss the question even above the rising, panicked sounds of the civilians scurrying about them.

Noiz takes a deep breath. “It’s Noiz,” he yells back. He’s surprised at how much effort it takes to raise his voice. It almost hurts his throat. When was the last time he’s done such a thing?

“Noiz?” A smile is back on Azure’s face and gone again, quick as a flash. He sticks an arm up and waves. “My name is Aoba! Stay safe out there!”

And then he’s gone with the next push of people.

“Stay safe, huh…?” Noiz murmurs. And then he snorts and continues onward. Now there’s an unnecessary sentiment if he’s ever heard one.

 _Stay safe out there._ It echoes in his mind. _Stay safe, stay safe, stay safe._

It doesn’t matter. It hasn’t even been half an hour since they’ve met. Nowhere near long enough for that to be nothing but empty parting words.

_My name’s Aoba!_

Blue again. Of course. It sounds close enough to Azure that it seems almost superfluous to know. He’ll remember it, just because it’s easy to remember.

“Usagimodoki.”

“P!” Usagimodoki flits around his head. “Did Noiz make a new friend?”

“Not what I wanted to talk about.”

“Sorry…”

“How long do I have until my shift?”

“Seven minutes, eighteen seconds!”

Noiz maneuvers his way into the nearest alley. It’s crummy and dark, the walls tagged with competing gang signs and obscenities. Indistinguishable from every other Old District back street. Perfect for a quick change of costume.

“Anyone around?”

“No signs of life detected!”

“Alright.” He takes in a deep breath, concentrating, scrubbing out all nearby distractions until he is a single entity standing in a void.

_I can’t be seen._

He goes cold all over, goosebumps flaring over his skin. The sensation is always unpleasant, like stepping into an icy shower. But that’s how he knows it works. It’s not the first illusion he’s ever cast, but it’s become his most useful one.

“Ready for the transfer?” he asks Usagimodoki, grabbing it and attaching it back to the chain of its comrades.

“Usagimodoki is ready! Go, go, go!”

“Keep your voice down,” Noiz sighs. He flips through Coil screens and enters a long string of characters and numbers into the very last one, a window empty and unadorned except for a password slot. “You’ll draw attention to us.”

“Superhero mode activated!” Usagimodoki’s squeak is a silly stage whisper that makes Noiz sigh again, but it’s quiet enough for him to let it slide. He lifts his arm into the air, Coil glowing with a light no one else can see, and swings it in a sharp, quick gesture. The light falls with it, shining over his body in a latticework of bright, complex data not even he can make much sense of. It hardens and encases him, switching out flimsy street clothes for a streamlined work suit. Green and black, built for mobility and a low-key presence. He is not meant to be a public face, and that is exactly how he likes it.

“Connection to Heroic Network established.” A great, deep voice speaks through his earpiece, the same one that warned Old Resident District of the current threat minutes before. “Requesting voice verification.”

“Dr. Rabbit, reporting in.”

“Voice verification accepted,” says the voice as Noiz watches the inside of his visor load up, main screen flashing the Network’s logo. “Call sign recognized. Dr. Rabbit is now on duty. Welcome back, Dr. Rabbit.”

Noiz simply tugs his hood lower over his forehead. The voice is as familiar to him as it is unsettling.

A smaller window opens in his visor, where Usagimodoki’s avatar waves at him.

“Allmate-to-suit transfer successful! All systems are online and cleared for use!”

“Turn on the voice disguiser. Any change in my directives?”

“None! The Mind Shock case is still active!”

“Got it.” Noiz’s words now come out in wild, warbling pitches. “Start tracking the comm lines. He’ll show up soon enough.”

“Roger!”

Time to earn his paycheck. “Let’s get moving.”

He aims a hand up and shoots. The device on his wrist ejects a grappling hook that embeds itself into the building before him. He grabs onto the released handle and lets himself be yanked up and over the edge and onto the roof.

“Watch your footing!”

“I’m not a rookie,” Noiz mutters, the wire retracting back into its mechanism with a loud snap. The first thing he sees is the white wall of Platinum Jail to the north, the multicolored lights glowing against the night sky. No doubt its citizens are still partying their eternal night away. It’s a scene that Noiz finds even less endearing than South District’s. For all of Platinum Jail’s cutting-edge technology that allows it to control its atmosphere down to the last particle, there’s a stuffiness to its ever-comfortable air that rankles at Noiz after spending too long inside of it. He feels a little too enclosed there. A little too trapped. And he’s long since had enough of that. More than enough for any one person.

He rolls his shoulders and turns away from the wall that shadows over the Old District. His current mission isn’t stationed anywhere near Platinum Jail. South District has proved to be Mind Shock’s favorite haunt so far, so he circuits around it while he waits for a better lead on his target, leaping over gaps between buildings and flipping over the various obstructions in his way, air conditioner units and a myriad of junk tenants moved to the roofs and forgot about. Sometimes he swings across the street for an easier path to travel, silent and unseen by the fleeing citizens below him. It’s a decent warm-up before he conducts the next round between him and his case objective.

An angry roar rumbles through the sky. It’s distant and low, but Noiz stops and turns eastward. He swears he can almost hear faint human cries rise up in response.

Radio chatter is coming in through his earpiece. He listens for a moment, more curious than concerned. Midshift patrol is about to begin…backup is needed in Flame Willow…the usual business from the HN command post. It takes awhile for the topic of East District to come up at all, which is also business as usual. Unidentified monster near the border of East and North, violent, large, does not appear to be under the control of any known supervillains, no reported human injuries but plenty of environmental damage conducted through the use of appendages of a considerable length. Three third class heroes currently en-route.

Noiz whistles low and continues along his loping path, ignoring the far-away screech that goes off behind him again. Definitely glad whatever that thing is doesn’t fall under his jurisdiction. Dealing with monsters is not how he wants to spend his —

“Dr. Rabbit, Usagimodoki senses unauthorized access of HN comm lines!”

“Where’s it coming from?” asks Noiz.

“Here, here! P!”

A map of Old District is pulled up in his visor. Noiz stares at the flashing dot, face falling flat.

Close to the edge of East and North. Of course.

He spins a one-eighty on his heel so abrupt he kicks up a bit of grit and speeds toward his target. Something tells him tonight is going to end on an irritating note above anything else. Might as well get it over with.

 

* * *

 

“ _Please_ calm down, everyone.”

Target acquired.

Noiz squats on the roof of a rather dilapidated two-story home, invisible and eyes locked on Mind Shock, unmindful of the raucous smashing of property getting destroyed with unbridled enthusiasm and the bellows of something monstrous and pissy drawing closer every minute. The civilians left in the street are ashen-faced, scared, a few in tears. Mind Shock leads them down the road, a soothing beacon of hope dressed sleek in white and blue. The emblem emblazoned across his chest is about as old school as it gets when it comes to superhero fashion, but it looks alright: a stylized brain emitting bolts of lightning.

The Protector of the Old District, as his fans on the internet have fondly dubbed him. A nasty thorn in Heroic Network’s side and their most promising future asset in a long while. All Noiz needs to do is dig up a bit more dirt on him before the officers can haul him in. Three to six months’ worth of dirt, in fact. Today is the start of week two into the mission.

He has a long way to go.

“Houses eleven and twenty-three are the last two designated safe places.” His voice is sweet and silky, as unnerving as the sinister light that shines from his irises behind the classic blue eye mask he wears. Noiz can’t help but fall into it. No one can. “There’s plenty of room for everyone left, so — ”

Another loud, enraged roar. Someone whimpers. A child begins to wail. Noiz catches the ever-present smile on Mind Shock’s lovely face slacken through the zoom-in function on his visor as they hurry onward. Noiz hops from rooftop to rooftop to keep up with them.

“All suit modes are fully operational and ready when you are, Dr. Rabbit!” Usagimodoki’s voice is back to that stage whisper again. Maybe it’s concerned Mind Shock secretly has super hearing. Noiz is pretty sure he doesn’t, but he isn’t bothered enough to tell it to knock it off. “Engage target?”

“I can go without modes tonight. And I'd rather let him deal with these civilians, first,” Noiz murmurs as he watches Mind Shock shepherd some of the group into a home not a stone’s throw away from where Noiz stands. The outlaw’s hair is a white of stark brilliance, tied up in a thick, messy knot that bugs him far too much. He squints at it, as if it’s full of secrets just begging to be deciphered. “I don’t want them getting in our way.”

There’s a resounding crash, then another and another, topped with a long shriek of rage. Someone’s trash cans are getting the pummeling of their existence against the asphalt.

“ _That_  doesn’t need to get in our way, either,” says Noiz.

“Hm, Usagimodoki’s sensor is having trouble picking up its infrared signature!”

“Just try to keep tabs on it, alright?”

“Roger!”

Mind Shock is at the next house over, shoving the rest of the civilians inside as quickly as possible. Noiz feels his heart quicken, just a bit. Mind Shock is no slouch. The Network wouldn’t have sent a first class operative like him to gather intel, otherwise.

“Beginning Mind Shock altercation number three,” Noiz says quietly. “East District, block forty-eight.”

“Recording is in progress,” Usagimodoki squeaks when Noiz finishes relaying date and time. “Go, Dr. Rabbit!”

He leaps from the roof, to the fence, to the street and lands crouched before Mind Shock; visible and silent, body already tensed for the fight to come.

“I thought that might have been you up there,” Mind Shock barks a hollow laugh as Noiz rises. “You can’t be serious right now, kid.”

“You sensed me?” asks Noiz, figuring a tidbit like that will wet the HN’s whistle.

“You give me that much of a headache.” The grin on Mind Shock’s face doesn’t reach his glowing eyes. “Doc, I’m gonna have to take a rain check this time. If a fight’s what you’re looking for, try Tentacles-san the next street over. That thing looks ready to go.”

“I want _you_ to fight me,” Noiz says, advancing upon him. “Fight me, or _make me leave_.”

To his credit, Mind Shock doesn’t retreat. He just blows a heavy sigh. "Is there a third option I can take?”

“No. Fight me.”

Noiz bashes his fists together. Electricity bursts from his clenched fingers and crawls over his gauntlets. Far, far more than what’s actually there. He prefers to use the volts as an inelegant solution for pesky robotic security measures than living targets.

“Electro-knuckles at low power,” Usagimodoki announces. 

Mind Shock blinks at Noiz’s crackling fists, then at his face.

“Point taken.” And he’s back to sounding sweet again, coy again. “But, Doc, can you even keep up?”

Noiz scowls and lets his first punch fly, throwing illusions of bolts into the air. It collides with nothing but a ribbon of blue light that burns bright and hot from the thrusters at Mind Shock’s back. There’s a sudden laugh besides Noiz, wild and thrilled, audible even above the racket of the screaming monster lurking somewhere in the background.

“To your right, your right,” Usagimodoki cries into his earpiece.

He throws up an arm just in time to block the leg swinging for his head. The impact rattles his bones down to the marrow.

“You’re better than the last couple of recruiters the Network has sent after me.” Mind Shock’s grin is wicked, and this time it does meet his eyes. Eyes that bore into Noiz with their light, staring deep inside him.

But there’s no compulsion behind them. This won’t satisfy his superiors at all.

Noiz switches his grip and clasps Mind Shock by his leg, spinning and chucking him down the street with a grunt of exertion. Mind Shock slides backward on hands and feet, his glare cutting through the darkness.

“I’m not a recruiter.” Noiz launches himself at him, throwing jabs that miss and miss and miss with the way Mind Shock spins and steps around the attacks. He kicks back here and there, but Noiz blocks each one with ease. They’re going light on each other, feeling things out in a cautious dance that pushes them further down the road. “And I’m better than all of them.”

“So arrogant!” Mind Shock leaps away from a punch that would have clocked him square in the face, takes to the air in a flurry of blue sparks, and lands on a lamppost above Noiz. “And what was that little sting from earlier, Doc? Bees hit harder than that. Those taser fists of yours aren’t really on, are they?”

“You can sense my simulations,” says Noiz. He’s not quite sure how he feels about that, but he keeps what’s visible of his face still and unreadable. “Don’t bother pretending you don’t.”

“You don’t exactly hide what you do,” Mind Shock retorts, hand plunked on his hip as he balances on one foot. He wobbles and has to windmill his arms to stay upright against the loud bellow that almost topples him over, this time accompanied by the crack of shattering concrete and glass (an evaluation mark against him, Noiz finds himself thinking. His old handlers would not be pleased with someone who flinches so easily). The monster is closer, maybe a house or two away the next street over. Noiz can hear something heavy and squelching shifting above the racket it makes. That doesn’t sound promising in the slightest.

But Noiz doesn’t have much of a choice. He wants more than just another shaky suit-cam fight and a few kernels of new, unproven assumptions on Mind Shock before he ends his shift.

“Come back down and fight me,” he says.

Mind Shock growls above him. “I don’t have time for this, Doc! There’s a monster on the loose!”

“Then tell me to go,” Noiz suggests. “Isn’t that your thing?”

“Kid.” Mind Shock’s mouth is twisted downward, humor gone. “You have _no idea_ what you’re asking me to do.”

“Fine.” Noiz flings his arm and shoots. The wire of his grappling hook wraps itself neat around Mind Shock’s waist, just above his utility belt.

Mind Shock’s eyes go wide. “I forgot you could do tha — _aaack!”_

And that’s one more point knocked off of Mind Shock’s score. He’s good, but he’s not perfect. Noiz yanks on the line and sends him crashing to the ground with little mercy.

“I don't get you. Why not make life easy for yourself and actually utilize your powers?” Noiz asks Mind Shock while he struggles. “Or you can turn yourself in tonight. I wouldn’t have to fight you at all if you did that.”

“I’ve had enough of this!” Mind Shock thrashes against Noiz’s wire like a fish hooked on a line, pulling and tugging until Noiz is dragged over along with it. Mind Shock yanks at his wrist, and Noiz finds himself twisted onto his back, wind knocked out of him and Mind Shock wrapped tight around his arm.

“Leave me alone or I break your arm at the elbow,” Mind Shock snaps.

Not bad, Noiz has to admit, even if he didn’t put up too much of a resistance. Not that he’s going to inform his opponent of that. “Do it.”

Mind Shock freezes. Noiz stares up at him, waiting. There’s more than one method to get out of this easily enough, but escaping Mind Shock’s clutches won’t tell the Network much about their prey.

Willing to break a top operative’s elbow, on the other hand…that will be sure to pique their interest. Noiz wonders if something like that works for or against candidates. For them, most likely, considering how he was scouted.

He also wonders how much he’ll regret calling the bluff. The injury sounds like one hell of a nuisance to heal.

“…You’re a little shit, you know that?”

His arm is released. Mind Shock collapses spread-eagle on the ground and stares up at the smoggy night sky, those full moon eyes of his mournful.

“What’s the point of all this, Doc?” he sighs. There’s a lazier lilt to his voice, low and soft like the words murmured after a blissful night of sex. It’s a terrible sound. All Noiz can think about when he hears it is that he’s neck deep in a dry spell of a couple months and counting. “Who are you helping by chasing me all over Old District?”

“My employer,” says Noiz, getting up and spooling his wire back into his gun.

Mind Shock’s gaze slides over to him. “You’re a superhero.”

“That’s my job, yeah.” The last of the line finally slides back into his wrist. “And I have my orders.”

Mind Shock flips easily back onto his feet. “So you’re going to keep bugging me about this?”

“Are you going to turn yourself in?”

The question earns him another piercing glare. “I'm not working for the Heroic Network. Not with the way things are now.”

“Then you can complain all you want.” Noiz bashes his knuckles together again. His fists reignite with crackling sparks, and more echoes of lightning are conjured around them with an easy thought. "Nothing's going to stop me from fighting you."

“Well, well. Doc is as unpredictable as ever.” Mind Shock tuts and drops into a low, defensive stance, eyes on Noiz's knuckles again. "Looks like I can always count on you to give me the most _shocking_ answers.”

"Wait," says Noiz, narrowing his eyes. "Did you mean to do that?"

There’s a long stretch of silence before Mind Shock responds. It's a short, loud snort of a giggle.

Noiz can only stare. If heroes were rated on jokes, he's sure the Network would drop the Mind Shock case immediately after this. "...You must have left your better bits at home."

And then Mind Shock laughs full out. It’s not in that sexy tenor at all, but a jovial and cheeky. It makes Noiz’s fingers bite deeper into his palms because he’s heard that same laugh somewhere else. He _knows_ he has and it seems like the most important thing in the world for him to remember who else can make such a silly —

“Eh?”

Both of their gazes snap to Mind Shock’s middle. A thick, dripping, off-white tentacle snaked around the corner of the house they stand at and wrapped itself around him.

And then it hoists him high into the air.

Noiz’s first thought is that their combined lapse of vigilance was definitely both of their faults. His second thought, as he back-flips away from appendage number two crashing down from between the houses, is that Mind Shock’s yell can be borderline bloodcurdling.

“Usagimodoki is sorry!” His Allmate gives a distressed squeak. “Really sorry! Usagimodoki wasn't able to pick up — ”

"It's fine, forget it." With a quiet curse, Noiz vaults over the fence, through the front yard of yet another house and clambers onto its roof, almost slipping on the slanted shingles as he skids to a halt and assesses the situation.

He does not care for what he sees. The monster in question looks a lot like the flans they used to serve him and the other students in the Talented Youth program as a special after dinner treat…if those flans also grow to the size of monster trucks and sport the voracious, sharp-toothed mouths of sharks. It shuffles up the street as if taking stock of all the property damage it caused, leaving a slimy, viscous trail behind it. It’s roaring, roaring, roaring; bashing its multiple tentacles at anything and everything. The one carrying Mind Shock flails to and fro in the sky. Flailing in pain, judging by the fizzing blue fire of the outlaw's thrusters cranked all the way up. Through his visor’s magnification Noiz can see that all traces of sultriness are gone from Mind Shock’s face. He’s struggling with all his might, lips pulled back in a snarl, once again every bit the dog people call him.

“Use your voice,” Noiz calls from his perch. This is becoming almost frustrating for him. What _is_ it with Mind Shock’s reluctance? Noiz supposes it’s decent enough data for the night if he refuses even now, however.

He almost doesn't hear the reply above the flan monster’s slow, thorough rampage. And the bent, broken bike that flies at him and misses his head by a hairbreadth.

“Cover your ears!”

Noiz doesn’t think to refuse, he just does it.

He’s sure the protection doesn’t help at all.

**_“DROP ME.”_ **

The pressure of Mind Shock’s voice almost flattens him against the roof. Noiz whines in protest, the blood pounding in his head, his arms shaking violently. He wants to drop him, his entire being begs him to drop Mind Shock, but he can’t. He’s not even holding him, and some dark, irrational piece of him longs to be that gooey tentacle curled around Mind Shock just so he can do as he’s bid.

Nothing happens. Mind Shock yells again, sounding almost as enraged as the monster is as it continues to parade him up the road. His thrusters burn even brighter, but Noiz knows he can’t keep that up for long before his suit short-circuits.

“Did you get that?” asks Noiz through gritted teeth.

“A-affirmative!” Even Usagimodoki sounds stunned. “Recording is still in progress!”

Noiz barely gives himself enough time to recover before hopping off the roof and dashing over to them, shooting his grappling hook around the blackened tentacle that still has Mind Shock in a vice grip.

“Lock it in,” Noiz grounds out, pulling back as hard as he can.

“Roger!”

The monster trudges onward, oblivious or uncaring toward the wire cutting into its ruined appendage. The tentacle crumbles with soft, wet sounds. Mind Shock plummets to the ground alongside the mush, landing in the gutter with a groan of pain. His thrusters cough up a last few sparks and die.

Noiz retracts his line and fires it right into the monster’s head a second later, his other hand unhooking an Usagimodoki from its chain, inert and invisible even when he isn’t. The hook embeds itself deep into inhuman flesh, the line pulling him up the street and onto the monster itself.

The thing feels absolutely nasty, even with the protection of his suit, and smells no better. It’s more sticky than slick, thankfully. He clambers over its head until he finds himself staring into its gaping, serrated mouth. There’s two tiny, beady little eyes, too. Almost comical. Right out of a child’s imagination.

It screams at him, tentacles thrown up in the air as if affronted by his appearance. Bits of lukewarm slime splatter across his face and visor (“P! Visibility decreased by thirty percent!”). Noiz presses the cube’s forehead and drops it into its mouth.

Maybe Mind Shock's terrible sense of humor is contagious. ‘Eat this!’ or perhaps ‘maybe _this_ will be more to your tastes’, suddenly seem like appropriate ending lines to Noiz. He says nothing and pushes off the monster’s back and onto the street. He doubts it understands human speech, anyway.

The bomb he dropped into the monster’s mouth is also not inclined to wait for a bit of wisecracking. It’s low in power and radius, but there’s no point putting it to the test.

“You’ve reached the estimated safety zone,” says Usagimodoki once he’s a a few houses away. “Dr. Rabbit, will Usagimodoki get a new replacement?”

“Later,” Noiz murmurs, and Usagimodoki cheers.

“Hey, Doc!”

Mind Shock hobbles up to him, arm curled around his chest and a grimace on his face, a smattering of loose asphalt stuck to his cheek, hair undone and all over the place. There’s no bewitching mystique to him anymore, even if his eyes are still overbright out of what seems like pure spite at this point. Underneath the mask and the suit he’s no more otherworldly than Noiz. 

“What did you do?” He looks at the monster in confusion.

“Dropped a bomb in it.”

“You have bombs?! Shouldn’t we be further — whoa!”

Noiz sidesteps the tentacle that thwacks at them, though they are just out of its reach. The monster is no longer bellowing. Throaty, bubbling gurgles pop from its throat. It sways back and forth, its appendages lacking their previous direction. Choking, if Noiz must guess. A poor way to spend the last thirty seconds of its life.

“How did you last so long if monsters like this give you trouble?”

“I wouldn’t have had trouble if you hadn’t kept harassing me!” Exhaustion and indignation wars in Mind Shock’s expression. “I was going to lead it into North District until you showed up, fists a-blazing like an asshole!”

“Whatever. The Network will probably still have to train you if they take you in.”

“ _If?_ You were ready to beat me into the asphalt and drag me to them just a few minutes ago. What happened to that attitude?”

Noiz peels some of the slime from his glove and flicks it to the ground, casual and unconcerned. Unconcerned because he really _doesn’t_ care if the HN puts a stop to Mind Shock’s law-breaking ways. It isn’t part of his job to help them do so. All he is concerned with is feeding them the intel they’re after, getting his bonus, and returning to assignments more his speed — like breaking into remote island supervillain strongholds on his own and busting all their doomsday toys right under their noses.

Before Noiz can decide whether to waste his time answering the question, the bomb goes off.

Usagimodoki calculated correctly: all that reaches them is a heavy wave of heat. Harmless. It’s followed by a geyser of chunky innards and slime that burst up and rain its hell upon everything in the street.

But mostly on Noiz and Mind Shock.

“Oh, my _god_ — ” In the time it takes Mind Shock to whip his head around for appropriate cover to dive under it’s already too late. Noiz yanks his hood down as far as it can go, and they are drenched in the aftermath of the monster’s body.

It ends with a silence weighted low with misery. Something that feels suspiciously like soggy bread slides down Noiz’s cheek. He closes his eyes and tries not to think about it.

“This is...this is terrible.”

Noiz peeks at Mind Shock. He used his arms as a shield over his head, but his hair is still plastered to his skull with slime. And one of the monster’s little eyeballs, though Noiz decides not to point that out. He also notes the thin black band around Mind Shock's head, and that chunks of his hair now had an unpleasantly murky tint to them.The shower of guts must have given all that white an unfortunate dye job.

“I-I don’t…I _can’t_ — ” He is so disgusted he looks heartbroken, and Noiz thinks he can almost relate to that.

“This isn’t harmful, is it?” Noiz asks Usagimodoki. Even if Mind Shock knows the answer, he isn’t in any kind of state to verbalize it and Noiz isn’t about to wait.

“Your body’s response indicates it is not harmful! Not harmful at all!”

Just really gross, then. That's manageable. He wipes residual slime off his visor and finds himself nearly nose-to-nose with one very upset outlaw.

“I’m leaving,” Mind Shock tells him, words clipped. “When those other three heroes and the HN officers finally decide to get off their lazy asses and show up tell them the civilians are taking refuge in the safe houses at the ends of these two streets. There should be twenty-three of them in all. I’ll alert the local police, too. Don’t even think about following me.”

“You break character pretty easily,” Noiz simply notes, looking at a point over Mind Shock’s shoulder rather than straight into his eyes.

Mind Shock spins on his heel and storms off. Halfway down the street his thrusters burst into life. Noiz watches him take great leaps deeper into the district, soon becoming nothing more than a faint stream of blue light arcing between buildings.

“Is Dr. Rabbit alright?” squeaks Usagimodoki when Noiz continues to stand alone in silence.

“We’re done for the night.”

He turns around and heads back the way he came on foot, avoiding the slime coating the concrete when he can, which isn’t often. He's not even out of the block when he runs into the three en-route superheroes. Who should have made it to the monster soon after Noiz arrived on the scene.

“Birdy, Quick Blade, and Ash Mist,” Usagimodoki informs him.

Noiz doesn’t recognize any of them. Though that is nothing new. He sighs, and — lacking proper pants pockets — hooks his thumbs under his belt as they approach him with raised hackles.

“Who the hell are you?!” The swordsman in the scowling red and white mask takes a step forward. “We’re on patrol, so you better — ”

“Open up your dossier, idiot,” A woman in a long, white-feathered cape fluttering in the chilly night breeze gasps and cuffs the swordsman round the head. “Show some respect, that’s Dr. Rabbit!”

“Who? I’ve never — ”

“ _The Prodigy,_ ” mutters the third. Tall and lanky, suited in dour, sooty colors that blend in with their odd, indistinct face mask. “I’d play nice with members of the first class if I were you, Quick Blade.”

“You’re late,” Noiz says. “Had fun while someone else took care of your assignment?”

“We…” Birdy's eyes dart away and back to Noiz. “Trouble near the South District. Command wanted anyone in the area to see to it, so…”

“Save it. I don’t care.” Noiz is not in the mood to deal with slacker rookies, so he shoves past them. Ash Mist takes a large step back and Birdy’s nose wrinkles. “Your new orders are to stand by for officers and local police to arrive. I’ll transmit a summary of the assignment results to your Coils soon.”

“Dealing with the officers is going to take the whole night!”

Ash Mist is the one who smacks the swordsman quiet this time. “We’ll see to it, Dr. Rabbit,” they say with a bow. “And we thank you for your leniency.”

But Noiz is already walking away. Leniency has nothing to do with it. His sudden, crushing need for several consecutive hot showers and a long, long nap has everything to do with it.

And about an hour and a half later, he fulfills his need.

He lies on his stomach in bed, Coil playing old Rhyme tournament videos he’s only partially paying attention to while he screws in the bottom of a fresh Usagimodoki and idly considers a fourth bath. He pays even less attention to the chat client he has up next to the video stream, quiet as the group been for the past few nights. A few other cubes hover around him, squeaking in growing excitement as he turns their newest member on with a tap of his finger.

“Welcome to the herd, number thirty-one.”

“P! Good evening, Noiz, good evening! I’ll do my best for you!”

The rest of the Usagimodoki greet it with enthusiasm, all colliding with each other in their rush to synchronize its data with it. He lets them at their business and flips onto his side. The video is kept on low, a soft murmur in his ear, and peace and quiet reigns at last. A hard fought peace and quiet. His business line blew up the second he stepped into his apartment. Case managers asking if anything urgent needed to be relayed about the Mind Shock assignment (“No. I’ll have the full report ready before noon tomorrow.”), officers needing details on the elimination of the East District disturbance (he gave them the shortest, vaguest statement possible before hanging up), and even Quick Blade calling him at one point (an immediate block). After his second shower he shut down his work number entirely, tolerance for the Heroic Network at critical limits.

The glow of his Coil window is soft, lulling. Noiz doesn’t struggle against heavy eyelids and warm sheets, doesn’t even turn off his Allmate. He can feel sleep descending upon him in a heavy cloud that he welcomes whole-heartedly.

His personal line buzzes in what feels like a few short seconds later, internet screen hidden behind his message window. He jerks into a mindless half-asleep alertness that has him squinting at the new text instead of turning the thing off and going back to bed.

 **Azure:** _hey, did you make it out alright?_

Noiz is more than a little taken aback. His assignment all but knocked the new number he obtained right from his head. He activates his keyboard and pecks out a reply he wouldn’t have bothered to send in a more lucid state.

 **Noiz:** _im fine. the streets were pretty clogged up on my way back, thats all_

 **Azure:** _tell me about it! it felt like the entire east district was in chaos._

 **Azure:** _i know you're all the way across from us but I just wanted to be sure. sorry if I woke you up._

 **Noiz:** _its alri_

 **Noiz:** _you did but im awake now so_

 **Noiz:** _why are you stil_

That’s when Noiz gives up and closes the screen. _He_ can wait until the sun is up, too. Maybe. Assuming he texts him again. It’s not as if Noiz can think of a reason to start a conversation on his own.

He brings up his contact list and stares long and hard at its latest edition. The guy’s probably trying to worm money or a one-night stand out of him. Most people are unimaginative that way, Noiz has learned. It makes it easy to stay on guard. If he wants to make conversation while he searches for an opening for favors, that's fine with Noiz. It’ll be easy enough to shut him down after their Rhyme rematches have played out.

Still, he changes ‘Azure’ into ‘Aoba’. No point in being inaccurate about things.

**Author's Note:**

> An AU project long in the making, finally seeing the light of day. This is a pretty big undertaking, at least this and a second multichapter that involves all the other characters' various shenanigans, but I do have the main points (mostly) figured out. The overall goal is to keep it fun, though. And ridiculous. And to never take the concept of people in weird outfits beating each other up all that seriously.
> 
> My hope is to actually finish this AU one day. I've put too much thought into it not to, but who knows what will happen in the future, especially since I've never written a multichapter fic before now. It will be a learning experience for me, that's for sure. Would you care to stick around while I figure all this stuff out? If you do, I hope you enjoy yourselves. :D
> 
> (PS: If you read this and think "hey, this reminds me a lot of [x superhero anime]!", you're probably right.)
> 
> Many thanks to my girl and partner in crime Savagen for proofreading all these words.


End file.
